


If You Knew

by the_okay_iron_girl



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Feels, If You Knew, Joel Faviere - Freeform, Self Harm, triggering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 21:39:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3149366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_okay_iron_girl/pseuds/the_okay_iron_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One shot based on the song If You Knew by Joel Faviere<br/>Warning:Triggering</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Knew

You walk down the street towards your destination, headphones in and blaring "21 Guns" by Green Day. You've been called by your uncle to look around his crime scene before the real genius, Sherlock Holmes, is called.

You go to duck under the police tape when Donovan's snarky voice stops you.

"I need to see your badge Freak." she orders, you visibly flinch, as if her words cut you like a razor. Then you consider ignoring her and just ducking under when Anderson walks up as if for reinforcement.

"Badge." she states again, harsher this time. You sigh and reach into your pocket to only grip the inside of your jean pocket. Cursing in your head, you turn to Donovan.

"I don't have it." you state in a wavering voice, trying not to let her words bother you but all your mind does is repeat her words over and over. _freak….. freak….. freak….._

_They think you’re crazy._  
 _They think you’re mad._  
 _they call you stupid, worthless, tell you you’re not worth it._

"I guess I can't let you through then, Boss' orders." She smirks at you and you bite back tears.

"Lestrade wants me to come and h-have a look." you whisper, your voice catching.

"The only reason he would ever let a freak like you have a look is because you're family. You never do anything here you just worthless." Anderson sneers and again you flinch, every harsh word cutting you to the bone.

"Please don't make a habit of insulting people of a higher intelligence Anderson. It does nothing to improve your own intelligence, which is pityingly low." A cool voice makes you look up.

Sherlock Holmes stands a few feet away, John Watson on his heels. His emotionless eyes take in the scene, Anderson and Donovan smirking and you visibly on the verge of tears. You gulp down tears angrily, embarrassed that the detective was able to see you this way.

"[Your Name]! There you are, what took so long?" Lestrade jogs over to you.

"C'mon through, Donovan why didn't you let her through?" He asks, trying guiding you under the tape.

"She didn't have her badge sir, you  told me not to let anyone in if they didn't have a badge."

"Never Uncle Greg, Sherlock's here you don't need me, I'll head home." you give a small wavering smile and begin to walk briskly towards your flat, ignoring the when Lestrade calls out to you. He then turns angrily to Donovan.

"Was that necessary? I told you she was coming to take a look around." he says harshly.

"It's taken me months to even get her out here with any amount of confidence and you've most likely crushed the efforts I've made." Donovan mutters a sorry and stalks off. Sherlock proceeds to finish the case within minutes and goes off to find you.

_Now you’re walking back to the place you call home._  
 _But you feel so alone (so alone)_  
 _The same hurtful hits it’s your darker place._  
 _In your virgin ears the remarks they make._

You're walking down the pavement towards your lonely flat, words still bouncing around in your head _worthless….. freak…… worthless freak….._

Blinking back tears you open the door with shaking fingers and shut it behind you, sliding down against it you press a shaking hand to your mouth, trying to keep the high pitched keening inside but it still escapes, your ears begin to ring from your own high pitched cries. You slowly crawl into your bathroom and frantically dig through the drawer, looking for something to relieve your pain with.

Finally your hands come into contact with a pair of scissors, not your preferred object but they're sharp, the metal glinting dully in the light of the bathroom.

_If they, if they really knew all of those things._  
 _That you do in your room to hide the pain._  
 _I bet their minds would change yeah._  
 _I bet their minds would change_

You drag the scissors down your arm, feeling the blood well up and spill down your wrist makes your breath shorten and tears flow faster. A sudden knock at the door sends you scrambling for a gauze pad and a sweater.

"[Your Name] open the door I know you're in there." Sherlock's voice calls through the door. You can sense some kind of emotion within it….. fear? No, that's impossible.

"Open the damn door!" He growls, pounding on it. You quickly open the door and he pushes in, his hands finding your shoulders and gently pinning you to the wall. His always searching eyes run down your tear stained face, taking in every detail while he rolls up your sleeve, pulling the bloody gauze pad away and looking at the fresh wound.

"You really shouldn't dwell on their words, it only makes it harder to focus on what really matters." he says blandly, walking to the bathroom and getting a fresh gauze pad he tapes to your wrist. What he does next shocks you. He leans down, his curls brushing against your skin, and kisses the bandage softly.

_They'd change if they knew the pain_  
 _Change 'cause I believe in these scars_  
 _'Cause I believe…_

That finally breaks you, the lump in your throat expands and tears stream down your face. No one has ever touched you so personally, even though it was so innocent, so light it touches you so deeply that tears stream down your face faster. Sherlock gives you a slightly panicked look.

"Did it do something wrong?" He asks, brushing away your tears, a laugh bubbles in your throat and you shake your head.

"No, you didn't you say, hugging him tightly, your hands gripping the back of his coat. His arms come up around you hesitantly.

"Things will get better, I know it doesn't feel like but they will." He whispers in your hair. Even though you've never believed that when someone  said it, this time it strikes a chord in your  heart. You believe him, things will get better.


End file.
